


Fast Forward

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 08:22:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a continuation from 'Slow Motion', Blair recovers - only to find that his Sentinel still has a gaping wound.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fast Forward

## Fast Forward

by Jvantheterrible

Author's website:  <http://www.angelfire.com/oh3/SkinnerSanctum/index6.html>

Characters not mine.but who DO they belong to now, anyway? No monies being made <SIGH>. Hope you like it. No flames, please; I've been writing too long for flames. Not beta'd, 'cuz my beta only does Skinner stuff!!! Yeah, I'm conceited.I consider my spelling and English skills above average. So? Sue me.you'll get the cats from hell and my Unemployment checks <LOL>

Thanks for bearing with me these last few MONTHS while my muse has been in hibernation. I decided to pull 'Slow Motion' out and dust it off, shine it up, and ready it for a sequel - FINALLY!

Nah, no spoilers. Just read 'Slow Motion' first.

This story is a sequel to: Slow Motion 

* * *

Fast Forward 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

852 Prospect  
Sunday Night 

I've been home from the hospital for two weeks now, and I know that something is still eating at you. I spent almost a week and a half at Cascade General, mostly with you anchored to my side by our joined hands; not that I'm complaining, but man, I think there are more constructive things you could have done with your time rather than babysit me. After all...I wasn't going anywhere, and I'm still not. Nice to know that I'll be guarding the couch to make sure that it doesn't move for at least another week until I'm fit for desk duty, which will go on for - well shit. Let's just say it'll go on until I can get back out in the field with you. 

You're pacing around the living room, unsure what to do with yourself. I could think of a few things, but I'm still under the doctor's watchful eye, and he says no strenuous activity for at least one more week...which means nothing more exciting between you and me than cuddling and some heavy petting. God, I miss you so bad, Jim. It's even worse because I know there's something you're not telling me. You may be the Sentinel, but dammit, I'm your Guide, and I know when something's wrong. And there is most definitely something wrong. 

"Jim man, sit down will ya'? You're making me dizzy already," I tell you, and you manage to shoot me an irritated glance before it fades into something more closely resembling apologetic. 

"Sorry, Chief. I'm just...not looking forward to heading to the station tomorrow without you." You sigh deeply and seat yourself next to me on the sofa, our sides touching, before you wrap an arm around my shoulders and give me a peck on the cheek. 

"It's not like you're the disabled one, Jim. You have to work; you have to protect the 'Great City', man," I tell you with a twinkle in my eye that you completely miss because you're so busy chastising yourself, still, for not being the one to get injured in lieu of me. I hate it when you get like this; I mean, I love that you are my Blessed Protector and all, but you have to admit that you are a grown man, and you don't necessarily need me around 24/7 anymore...at least not to do your job. 

"Chief," you growl at me in warning, and I chuckle because I know how it drives you crazy when I refer to Cascade as YOUR Great City. Despite the pride you take in solving crimes - and trying to prevent them - you're too humble to believe that you make that great of a difference...even though you and I both know, deep down, that you do. Okay, fine, we do. 

"Come on, man," I continue, wincing a bit as you remove your arm from around my shoulders and stand up to once again wear a path in the carpet, "You can't do this to yourself, Jim. Shit happens, man. There was no way you could have stopped -" you cut me off, as you have so many times these last few days when I try to reason with you. 

"...Blair, stop with the fucking speech, okay? Jesus Christ, it just shouldn't have gone down that way. Believe me when I tell you that I know what I'm talking about. If it had been any other officers involved in that bust - and I mean ANY other officers aside from the team of Ellison and Sandburg - no one would have been injured. End of story," you huff, and once more I'm frustrated beyond belief. 

I know that you heard something that day, Jim, and it still pisses me off that you won't tell me what it was. As sure as I am that it had something to do with...well, with us...I'm equally sure the time will come when you'll be unable to hold it back anymore; but will it be too late then? I shake my head and take a deep breath, releasing it slowly as you pace back and forth, back and forth, curling and uncurling your fingers into fists, your jaw clenched so tightly that I fear for your molars. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

852 Prospect  
Monday Night 

You slam the door when you come into the loft from work, with not so much as a 'how do you do' to me before you barge up the stairs to our room. I take a deep cleansing breath as I stir the pasta sauce I'm working on, letting it out slowly and preparing for Mount Ellison. Things slam and drop heavily to the floor overhead, and then there's silence for a good ten minutes before I hear you come back down the stairs and sidle up behind me. 

"Mmm, smells good, babe...but not as good as you," you murmur into my ear and I put the wooden spoon down on the stove and turn around to give you a proper welcome. You hold me so tightly in your arms it almost hurts; you sense the increase in my respiration and loosen your hold a bit before we can pull back a bit so we can kiss. 

"How was your day?" I ask you, frowning a bit as you shake your head a few times and shrug before responding, "Same old, same old, Chief. You know the drill. I missed you today," you tell me before sliding your tongue between my lips and silencing me from any further questions. Yes, something is definitely going on. 

I turn back around after our kiss and continue stirring the sauce, wondering what the hell is going on at the station. I know there's something you're not telling me. I know it has to do with the day I got shot, and I'm pretty goddamn sure that I know what it is...but you've had a long day, and I'm not going to press. I'm sure it will all come out eventually. 

Ten minutes later, dinner is ready. We eat mostly in silence, aside from you praising my cooking abilities and me reminding you that despite the fact that I'm on medical leave, tomorrow night is still your night to cook. You smirk at me, nod, and we finish supper with no further repartee. You clean and clear the dishes, and we retire to the couch to watch the Jags. You fall asleep with your head in my lap; I have this gift of being able to sedate you by simply playing with your hair. I figure you just need some rest and tomorrow will be better. By the way, I muse to myself, I'm still ticked off that you won't tell me what's wrong. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

852 Prospect  
Tuesday Mid-Afternoon 

I get the phone on the third ring; I fell asleep watching some whale documentary on the Discovery Channel, and I snap awake with a start. "Hello?" 

"Sandburg, it's me, Simon," Banks says, sounding way more gruff than usual. 

"What's up, Simon?" I ask, immediately dreading the reply. 

"Blair, we've got a bit of a situation down here..." Simon's voice trails off and I'm much more alert and awake all of a sudden. 

"What's going on, man?" 

"Well, I don't know exactly how to tell you this..." he starts off, and my heart is immediately in my throat; Jim's been injured. FUCK! 

"What, Simon? Is Jim hurt? What happened?" 

"He's been arrested, Sandburg. For assault and battery against two fellow officers." Simon clears his throat while I try to process the information I've just been given. 

"Simon? Two...what the hell?" Is all I can manage to get out before he fills me in on the rest of the story. 

"He beat the living hell out of Jones and Creed from Vice, Blair. I don't know the whole story, but I can tell you that there were some rather nasty things said about you and Ellison that were overheard by an anonymous source that's already reported to IA, and Jim just went off. I couldn't stop them from locking him up because Creed wants to press charges, and Jones was unconscious or I'm sure he would have agreed. It's bad, Blair. I know you're not up to much activity, but if you could come and post - " 

"I'll be right there, Simon. Keep an eye on Jim for me, okay? He might Zone, and I think that's the worst thing that could happen right now. Is he...is he on suspension?" 

Simon takes a deep shaky breath before he answers me, and I can almost see him clenching that ever-present cigar between his teeth as he replies, "Yeah, Sandburg, he is. Paid, though; I managed to get that much...at least until we sort this mess out." 

"Good enough, sir. I'm on my way." Goddammit, Jim...if only you'd talked to me. If only... 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

Cascade Police Department  
Tuesday Afternoon 

I manage to make it to the CPD in record time despite my slow-moving body, and Simon briefs me on what has happened leading up to your arrest. My heart is irrevocably broken; I had no idea that the guys from Vice hated me so much - hell, hated us so much. I'm sure that most of it is pure jealousy, but it takes a certain degree of ignorance and nothing more than pure evil to wish death on anyone - let alone a fellow officer - but that is what has been reported as having happened. 

According to Simon and the IA representative that is present upon my arrival to the bullpen, Cartwright grudgingly came forth and admitted the conversations that took place both on the day I was injured AND earlier today, leading up to the beatings and this very moment. Christ, Jim; why couldn't you just talk to me? Don't you realize that I could give a shit less what any of those assholes say about us? Don't you know that I love you more than my own life, more than my own soul, and no matter what happens that will never change? Words can't hurt us, babe, but you hurting them can. 

I walk unsteadily down to the holding cells, Simon at my side, and when we find you, you're sitting on the bunk with your head down, completely and totally ashamed. Your shoulders are slumped forward, and you don't even try to hide the tears that course down your cheeks. My heart aches as I take in your prone form, and any anger that I harbored towards you over this debacle dissipates instantly into remorse and guilt; if it weren't for me, you would never have ended up in this state. In this cell, devoid of dignity and reduced to appearing to be that which you so vehemently oppose - a common criminal. 

"Jim?" I say quietly, and I know that you can hear me. You ignore me instead, shaking your head ever so slightly back and forth in negation before you croak out, "Go home, Sandburg. This is where I deserve to be." 

"No Jim, it's not," I tell you a bit more strongly, Simon placing his hand on your customary spot at my lower back in silent support, "You don't belong here, and I'm taking you home. Let's go," I say. 

I watch as you shake your head again, still refusing to meet my gaze, tears still streaming down your face. Jesus, you've been down here for nearly two hours and you're still crying...all I want is to take you home and show you how much I love you, how worthy you are, how important you are, how strong you are. Don't let these assholes take that away from you, Ellison. You're way better than that, man. 

All is silent for another few moments, and then you begin to speak. The words do nothing more than increase the size of the lump in my throat threatening to choke me as I watch and listen to you. "They wanted you to die, Blair. I heard them that day - calling you a faggot Jew, calling you a fucking pussy," your voice trails off and then you hitch back a sob before continuing, "I heard it all, and there were no witnesses. There was no one to back me up, Chief, like always...no one except you, and you were too busy bleeding at that point to be of much help." 

"Jim," I whisper, and though I know you can hear me, it offers me no comfort because you still haven't looked at me. I still haven't been able to see your eyes and I feel like I'll go crazy very soon if you don't meet my concerned gaze at some point in the very near future. 

You continue to stare at your shoes as though some universal answers lie there, refusing to look up at Simon and me, and suddenly I've had enough. I'm not fully recuperated, goddammit, and I'm ready to take you home. 

"Get up," I order you firmly, causing Simon to glance down and over at me questioningly as he removes his hand from my lower back, "Ellison, on your feet, NOW. We'll deal with this sentimental crap later. Right now, you're coming with me and we're leaving. Pronto," I repeat in my best authoritative voice. 

You nod once, affirmatively, before standing. You still stubbornly refuse to meet my gaze, but that's okay. IA has been observing this entire discussion, and with Cartwright's testimony, I'm almost positive the charges will be dropped. Those assholes DID have it coming, though I wish you'd been able to stop yourself...but it's all water under the bridge at this point. All I want to do is take you home and love you until you forget about all of this. The rest will take care of itself - or IA will. 

I have that much faith in Simon and the so-called 'system' - thanks to IA and Cartwright - that the only remaining scenario is getting you the fuck out of here and home to the loft. Which is what I manage to do some ten minutes later, both of us heading home in your truck - with me driving and you still slumped down and unable (unwilling?) to look me in the eye. But you will before this night is over. Trust me...you will. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

852 Prospect  
Tuesday Night 

I've allowed you to remain seated and equally as unresponsive as you first were in your cell at the station long enough. We've been home for nearly an hour now, and I'm tired of watching you study your shoes. You have to give, Ellison, and give now. I gave three weeks ago, and it's your turn, dammit. 

I stand up from where I've been comfortably seated - in the lounger opposite the sofa - for the past 60 or so minutes, frustrated beyond words at watching you refusing to move or lift your eyes from your crossed hands resting between your knees. It's time you spoke, if for no other reason than to explain why you never told me what you heard that day. 

"Give, Jim," I tell you softly after standing up and placing my hands on my hips while I await a response. I ignore the continuing silence, save for the popping from the logs in the fireplace, and repeat myself when no reply appears to be forthcoming, "Give. Give now." 

"Blair," your voice is hardly more than a whisper, and I close my eyes as I prepare to listen to your voice; your voice, normally so strong and assertive, reduced to nothing more than a mere gasp for letting these assholes affect you so. "I'm...I'm sorry," you murmur, head still down, shoulders still hunched in defeat. "I'm so sorry...for everything," you manage before the tears begin yet again. 

I've never seen you so defeated, so...helpless. I gather up all my strength before I allow myself to open my eyes once more and address you sternly. This is my time to be the strong one in this relationship, just as it's been your duty to be the stronger one all those other times. This is what Incacha was talking about all those years ago when he passed on the way of the Shaman to me, just before he died. There will come times when I must be the strong one, guiding my Sentinel as he has guided me thus far, and this is my time. 

"Jim, look at me," I order quietly but sternly, aching beyond words to see the indigo depths of your soul gazing back at mine, frustrated only momentarily when you refuse my initial request. "Look at me, Sentinel," I beseech you, and you finally look up from the floor to meet my gaze. I can see just how much those bastards have hurt your very being with their words - and how you've hurt yourself with your own actions. All I can hope to do is ease your pain, hopefully bringing you that much closer to me in doing so. 

I watch your tears continue to fall unchecked, and though I yearn to drop to my knees and clear them away with my lips and my fingertips and my tongue, I allow them to continue; this is necessary, I realize. As everything in our relationship leading us up to this point has been necessary, so are all things that will see us through this and carry us beyond this moment. This must be allowed to happen, no matter how much it tears at my heart - or yours. 

"What you did today was wrong," I begin, and I watch your eyes as they fix on me and squint into beady accusing ovals before I continue, "Don't look at me like that. You know as well as I do that what you did was wrong, Jim. Sentinels are born to protect the tribe, Enqueri," I say, and I see your gaze falter a bit as I use your Chopec name, "No matter the opinions of those who are guarded by said protector." I am not surprised when your eyebrows raise a bit at my words, and I'm pleased when I see your shoulders finally perk up a bit. 

"Incacha told you that you would have many trials, Enqueri. He bestowed upon both you and myself the honor of protecting the Great City, and I have recently been unable to uphold my role," I say apologetically, despite your desperate head-shaking negating my responsibility due to my physical condition. 

"It's true Sentinel, and you must agree with me when I tell you that it is also the way of the world that commoners would not see, nor would they understand, our close-knit relationship in conjunction with our protective duties. It is unfortunate that these people have chosen to cast us out as members of their own 'closed society'...but it was their choice, and they have spoken. I am sorry that I was not with you for the past couple days to 'reign you in', so to speak," I tell you, wincing along with you as I speak before once more gathering my wits. "But it was also your duty to confer with me, your Guide, and you neglected to do so," I finish. 

I watch as you nod ever so slightly in agreement, your eyes never leaving mine - for the first time today - as I speak to you. I smile at you, standing in front of you now - before dropping to my knees and placing my palms on your knees. "I love you, Enqueri. It's both my duty and my joy to bestow my love upon you, no matter what takes place in our Great City. It matters not that I was wounded," I say, smiling at the few tears that begin once more as you obviously remember holding my injured body close to your strong one, "What matters is that you kept me safe. You protected the Guide, as is your destiny, and I came back to the Sentinel, as is mine." 

"I love you," you whisper brokenly to me, and it takes everything in me not to break down in front of you as I hear your voice. I'm proud of myself when I realize that I have managed to hold myself - and you - together in order to bring us to this point. I slide my palms up your denim-encased thighs towards your groin, allowing my fingertips to caress and massage while we lean ever closer, lips pouting and searching out mates until they meet, first sweetly - then violently - as we claim one another. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

"Blair...God, Blair I love you so much," you murmur into my mouth as I knee-walk into the vee of your legs until I can go no further. I reach up and encase your strong neck within my embrace, forcing you to bend ever closer towards me, sucking your tongue into my mouth that much further. All thoughts (nightmares?) of the past couple weeks dissipate as you moan my name between my lips...I swallow the words as fast as they form, taking them deep down in my chest - all the way to my heart and beyond - as fast as you can murmur them. 

"I love you, Enqueri," I breathe back into you, refilling the hole that's been forming in your soul since those ugly words you heard nearly three weeks ago. "Love you so much, Jim...fill me up," I beg you. I'm thrilled when you finally pull me bodily into your lap from my current kneeling position in front of you, whispering words of encouragement and love and lust into my ear as soon as you can get me close enough. 

You embrace me tightly...and my healing injuries suddenly become non-existent as I revel in your touch; I'm feeling no pain now. I wrap my legs around your waist as best I can, pulling your crotch ever closer to my own as you scoot forward on the couch to allow the contact. I lock my ankles behind your lower back as you murmur sweet words into my ear, clutching you ever tightly to my chest as our lips finally join, sucking the air from one another even as we pant back into each other's lungs. 

"Upstairs lover, now," you mutter as you find the will power that it takes to pull away from me momentarily so that you can scoot me over and off of you, standing up and offering your hand out to me to help me up. I accept your big paw and let you pull me up and into another nearly crushing embrace, before I suck in a painful breath of air - suddenly you release me and your eyes are all concern, lust shoved aside until you are certain that I'm not in pain. 

"S'okay, love, still just a bit tender is all. I'm fine, Jim, really," I assure you, and the look of animal hunger re-enters your gorgeous azure gaze as you lead me up the stairs to our shared bed. Fuck the doctor's request; this is what you need...hell, what we both need. We must re-connect in all the planes in which we are tied, spiritual, emotional, physical, and otherwise. We both need this to heal the rift that the last few weeks has driven between us; that seemingly insignificant crack in our communication was enough to turn into a fucking Grand Canyon of frustration and sorrow, and it's time we closed that nasty gap. 

"Sit down, Blair, please...I want to undress you," you tell me, your chest heaving with the effort of controlling your breathing, the excitement nearly too much for you to take after being separated physically from me for so long. Yes, we've cuddled gently in bed, and taken tender showers together, but the time for cuddling and coddling is over - we need to get to the bones of things right this minute - pun intended. 

I nod up at you once I'm seated on the edge of our huge bed, lifting my arms first to my sides so you can pull off my ever-present flannel shirt, then slowly up so you can pull off my tee-shirt. It still aches to have my arms over my head, but it's only momentary, and the reward will far outweigh any discomfort on my part - no matter how great or small. Once you've peeled off the top layers, you drop to your knees in front of me, your eyes never leaving my face, and you reach up to push a few stray curls behind my ears as you pull off my shoes and socks. There's a lump in my throat the size of Texas from watching you disrobe me so carefully, as though I'm made of fine china, afraid to move me the least bit in a way that might cause me pain. 

You stand back up and put your big hands on my shoulders, pushing forward a bit, gently urging me to lie back on the bed - which I do - and lift my hips a bit to allow you to pull off my sweatpants. You still gaze into my eyes, stroking my soul with your tender actions...and my eyes fill with moisture that leaks out and down the sides of my face at your whispered endearments. 

"Love you so much, baby...never gonna' let anything happen to you again, Blair...you are my heart and my soul and the other half of my very being," you assure me as you stand once more and strip your own clothing off. "I'm so sorry I hurt you, Chief...I promise I won't ever shut you out again," you say as your own tears begin to roll down your face. Even with the emotion that you're showing, your eyes are still locked with mine, and that makes me shudder with a sob that just barely manages to escape from behind my lips. We've come so far, James Ellison...so very far from that first day that we met. 

"Please don't cry, Blair," you tell me with a genuine smile as your own tears dry up, the hints of wetness still visible in the tracks down your cheeks. You climb onto the bed and pull the covers back, patting the pillows in invitation; I roll over onto my stomach and crawl towards you, licking my lips as my own tears dry up, tasting the residue there and instantly craving another kind of salt entirely. 

You let me settle under the sheets and blankets with my head on the pillows; for love-making, I'll be more comfortable on my left side with my back to you so you can spoon up behind me, which you do seconds later. I shiver again, only this time not from an escaped sob; this is entirely lust-fueled, and as soon as I feel your heat behind me, I scoot back until I am pressed flush against you, skin touching skin everywhere possible. I can feel your knees fitted perfectly against the backs of my own, the heat from your chest and the beat of your heart soaking into my back. 

I close my eyes and revel in the feel of your right hand on my hip, the other stroking my hair for several moments until you pull it back so you can reach my ear with your tongue and your teeth, nipping and licking just like your spirit animal would. I groan from the feel, and instantly your half-hard cock grows full and presses into the cleft of my rear, the pearly drops of pre-cum allowing you to slowly slide back and forth there, powered by your hips while you continue to work on my ear. 

I don't have to say a word; you know instinctively that it's time you touch me, and your right hand slides forward until it's found its target; my burgeoning erection pulses the moment your palm touches the satin-encased hardness. I gasp - and so do you as you wrap your fingers around me, pumping me slowly as you release my earlobe and lean up a bit so you can catch the flesh where my shoulder and neck meet between your teeth. You bite me there, firmly but gently, as you pump my cock in your fist; it's fucking perfect friction, and I can't help but moan your name over and over as I allow myself to lose a bit of bodily control and buck back against you. I'm begging you with each tiny thrust back to take me, Jim, take me now. Hell, you're a Sentinel...you sense me loud and clear. 

I feel you shift behind me as you reach down with your left hand, your right still occupied with stroking me, and you grasp your own dick and stroke it, milking the pent up pre-cum out and using it to lubricate my hole. "Now, Jim, please," I beg you in a desperate whisper, and you release your cock long enough to rub the semen into me, my muscles already lax and longing for you to fill me up to the hilt with yourself. 

"Don't wanna' hurt you baby," you whisper, your teeth still clenching the flesh at the junction of my neck and shoulder. 

"You won't Jim, I promise," I reply as I buck my hips back against you...and allow a great breath to escape as it proves to be enough to permit you to glide fully into me in that one smooth stroke. 

"Ffffuckkkkk," you cry aloud as your cock slides into my tight heat, and I meet your exclamation with one of my own, wincing when your teeth automatically tighten on my flesh after you've finished verbalizing. As much as it hurts, I nearly come from the sensation of you entering me at the same time that you bite into me. God, I fucking want all of you right this minute...your teeth; your cock; your flesh; your tongue; your kisses; your body, melded to mine in as many ways as possible. 

Ohhhh fuck yes. Exquisite fucking pain...unbelievable pleasure...I can feel you in me and my heart is exploding. I can feel every twitch and thrust and minute retreat before thrusting again, and it's almost too much; I would have Zoned by now myself, if I were a Sentinel. But I'm not, and at the moment, all labels are declared null and void. At this moment, there is only you, James Joseph Ellison and myself, Blair Jacob Sandburg, and we're joined and hot and sweating and pulsing and it's been so fucking long - feels like forever - but now we're...we're...one...and everything is right in the fucking universe. In our universe, anyway. 

I finally get my bearings and manage to reach behind both of us with my right hand and grab your ass, pulling you into me further with each thrust that you give. With my left hand I grip the hand you're pumping me with, clenching my fingers around your wrist before moving up to your forearm so I can clutch you there with my fingers a mere claw. I dig my nails into you and try to make you pump me faster, even as I try to pull you bodily into me. 

"Buh....Blair," you pant into my shoulder, "Guh...guh-honna...oh God," I hear you grunt, and suddenly stars explode behind my eyes. I close my lids and ride out the wave that hits me stronger than any fucking tsunami ever could. Your hips piston into me with sudden jerks, and I can feel your sighs against my back as you empty yourself into me, my own cock exploding in your fist as we reach the pinnacle of our love. Sweet Jesus, I've never come so hard...judging from the cries coming from behind me and the throbbing in my shoulder, I do believe it's just as intense for you, my love...my life...my other fucking half of my soul. 

"Stuh...stay, Jim, please stay," I urge him, asking him as blatantly as I can with those words to not leave my body just yet. He acquiesces, releasing my own spent cock and focusing his energy back to his arms, which he gingerly enfolds me within, nuzzling the back of my head with his chin. 

"Wouldn't dream of going anywhere, baby," he tells me, and I can tell he's smiling from the intonation of his words. I can feel his cock still twitching every few minutes or so inside of me; tears once again fill my eyes. He scents the salt, and before he has a chance to sit up, I shush him, assuring him, "Happiness, Jim, just happy, honest." 

I can feel him nod against the back of my neck, and I smile as the few drops of liquid make their way down my exhausted face, soaking into the pillows and beyond - into neverland - where they belong. I chuckle as I feel his tongue lave the spot where his teeth and lips have turned my skin an angry purple/red, at the junction of shoulder and neck...of course, his favorite spot. 

"I hurt you -" he begins concernedly, but I shush him with a hiss of disapproval. 

"No, Jim, you didn't. You marked me. You made me yours again. That's just what we needed lover, and you know it." I close my eyes and smile as I drift off, oblivious to his final snickers. I manage only the slightest of frowns as he slides his spent member from my damp and now loosened entrance so that it rests wetly and limply against my backside before he nuzzles once more into my hair and pulls me flush against him. 

"And I'll do it again, too," he says with a smirk as he spreads his senses out and across my entire body, filling up every empty space with some semblance, some trophy, of his lover's being before he, too, drifts off into the land of the lost. 

"Love you James," I tell him sleepily when I finally hear his sniffing stop. 

"Love you, Darwin," he tells me as he makes sure we're both covered up with the quilt and sheets, smoothing my hair down against the back of my head before nuzzling once more into it. After several more minutes, there's nothing left to hear in the loft except the slow, steady breathing of two men. Partners in everything. Lifemates and soulmates in all that might possibly be thrown at the two, who will always come together as one. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

* * *

End Fast Forward by Jvantheterrible: duranjaxter@comcast.net

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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